


Visenya Blackfyre

by MzMilo



Series: Grace Under Fire [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Lyanna Lives, M/M, Other, Period Typical Sexism, She-Wolf Temptress Lyanna, alternate universe-cannon divergence, reincarnated lives, twinfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzMilo/pseuds/MzMilo
Summary: Infamously known for being the dishonorable She-Wolf Temptress and Mad-Bitch-In-Heat, Lyanna holds her head high as she lives her life with all reckless abandoned. Luckily, her children, her twins love her so much (they did understand too well after all their orphaned lives they have been through of the consequences of being born a girl in the game of thrones) they did not bat an eye to their mother’s idiosyncrasies. At the very most, Lyanna encourages them to live. It would by hypocritical of her to put her powerful twins on a leash after all.Guarding their backs, Ser Jaime only wonders what he has done in his life to be shanghaied with the trio’s shenanigans.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/gifts).



> My apologies first for my use of the English language, I’m applying and learning the language as I write.  
> After I read, No blood, no Alibi and Today, This Ends by forestgreen and rereads my GoT fic: Ice Princess Visenya the Second to update a chapter, this story has been long in the making from its skeletal snapshots and muse’s AU Prompts: What if there is an inconsistency in the biological paternity of Lyanna’s child, in this case twins? For Lyanna to be as cunning as her House sigil as the Winter Kings of old did so to reign for thousands of years in the North? What if my Visenya the Ice Princess next life is a Blackfyre? What if Aemon who bounds himself always and forever to her joins her in this new world?  
> And so this convoluted plot, is the result--Divergent AU.  
> Rhaegar is not only the Targaryen who utterly believes in the Prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire, and is looking forward to have his beloved Visenya from the one who got away, Lyanna Stark. Then, there is Aerys Targaryen who is petty enough to covets his heir’s other woman, Lyanna, who he thinks is the One that can deliver the prophesized Prince That Is Promised(at the background, Varys thinks Aerys as brilliant but mad still). Aerys made Lyanna, his mistress. And Lyanna is desperate enough to do the worst thing against the Stark’s honor in the name of autonomous freedom—daring enough to make a deal with Aerys Targaryen. 
> 
> Sixteen later, Westeros will be reminded why House Blackfyre and its bastards is a bloody cautionary history that no southron and northern houses would easily forget in time. The thing is, the matter of fact that everyone seems to forget, is Fate does not give any shit to everyone’s standards. Lyanna’s twins Visenya and Aemon could attest to that. Past or present lives they had lived, the known world of Westeros would learn to awe and fear the return of House Blackfyre for the twins fully embraced the blood of Blackfyre.

 

**[At Present: Sixteen (16) Years Later]**

The Master of Whispers, Varys sets the missive on the table.

Aerys picks it up and immediately recognized the feminine handwriting.

 _The twins will soon pay you a visit._  
_L_

It is the sixteenth letter in the past sixteen years from the infamous disgraced She-Wolf Temptress of Winterfell who seduced his son, the Crown Prince Rhaegar. The same She-Wolf who ignored everyone and held her high like she did nothing wrong after dishonoring and shaming House Stark, broke her engagement contact with Robert Baratheon, and had without delay spirited herself away from Westeros once Aerys has his way with her after three years.

The same She-Wolf who nurtured a dragon seed, turned twins and made it known to him through her first letter. Twins that happily embrace the Blackfyre name with inappropriate amount of glee as Varys shared to him many years ago.

Aerys really did appreciate the She-Wolf’s sheer gall and shrewd maneuvering. If nothing else Lyanna’s wiles had highly entertained him and humiliated Dorne single-handedly without remorse and somehow has made her bloody path and a name for herself in the Free Cities.

_(And if Aerys has high hopes for the twins of ice and fire for the good of the Iron Throne, that is his business alone.)_

“Your Grace?”

Varys voice forces Aerys back to the present.

His mind racing with possibilities, Aerys’ smile reaches his eyes. “Have the celebration in Summerhall ready, Varys. I have my children to meet.”

“By your will, Your Grace.”

Watching his thrilled Master of Whispers sashaying away, it is very obvious that Aerys’ is not alone in looking forward for the incoming drama.

 

 


	2. Sonata I

**[Sixteen (16) Years Ago]**

Rickard Stark has two wives, the other he married after Lady Lyarra died after birthing the third son of House Stark, Benjen.

What follows, was a marriage out of necessity that Rickard Stark decides to marry Diana of House Bolton to thwart the ambitions of House Bolton against House Stark.

A marriage that sets an impasse between House Stark and House Bolton.

* * *

 

Nine moons later, little Lyanna is born from two noble Houses of the North, House Stark and House Bolton. But Lyanna surviving her birth leads her mother, Lady Diana to a birthing fever which she did not survived.

So Little Lyanna grows up without her mother, Lady Diana.

With her brothers and father who dotes her as if to compensate the lost of her mother, she is spoiled.

Precious like the blue rose of winter, Lyanna is cultivated in the believed barbaric manners her kinsmen of the North.

 _Wild,_  the people describe Lyanna.

Proud, Lyanna smiles all teeth like a wild wolf they make her to be.

* * *

 

But little girls grow up into women.

The standards are higher if you’re a highborn lady.

_“You’re not a child anymore. Grow up!”_

And a father has his way of provoking his child.

_"At your age, your dutiful mother has done better."_

By measuring his child to a standardized yardstick.

_"Even the ladies of House Mormont can endure very well so why can't you?"_

For a father’s have higher expectations to his daughter.

Most children are naturally eager to please their parents.

Some are innately submissive to do their duty.

Few have the way of life beaten into them.

Others are simply stubborn to yield.

Lyanna is both a Stark and a Bolton.

She learns.

She endures.

She adapts.

And she plots.

* * *

 

So when Lyanna meets the heir of House Bolton, her cousin, Roose, they share a telling calculating look which bridges their differences despite how they could see each other as means to an end.

* * *

 

Lyanna likes wild brother Brandon for they are so alike.

Lyanna likes honorable Eddard for he follows through his promises.

Benjen, her older brother the youngest of the three, Lyanna favors just because.

* * *

 

Then Lyanna’s match in marriage is arranged. It changes the House Stark family dynamics.

Highborn ladies are disposable for their maidenhead. Their honor to barter away in exchange for something equal or lower. It’s a fact drilled to her as she grows up into one.

She finds it  _too_  easy it is to love someone and resent them at the same time.

Lyanna smiles bitterly,  _So this is what familial betrayal feels like. Like my family are shoving me forward to the person passing my death sentence._

* * *

 

The Tourney in Harrenhal, is where Lyanna rebels _harder_.

Because charming boisterous Robert, her betrothed is someone she could not stand for the rest of her life.

Because jealous, possessive Robert Baratheon, who lies through his teeth claims to love her while he charms both maidens and whores on his bed and fathers bastard with them.

Quietly seething, Lyanna suffers through Robert’s wondering hands.

In moments like this with Robert, Lyanna daydreams of her heartfelt wish: a maiden of chastity, hunting in the North forever, being free to wear breeches and carry swords.

So when Lyanna chances by an act of rebellion as the Knight of the Laughing Tree, she dares through her justified plans for her dear father's banner-man's heir.

* * *

 

But the dragon Silver Prince named Rhaegar Targaryen catches Lyanna on the trap of his own making.

And like all whirlwind romance the prince and lady begin their secret affair thinking:

“Why he could not have fallen for someone else less complicated?”

* * *

 

(Deep in her heart, Lyanna laughs bitterly.

Rhaegar’s kisses are like fire.

They are compatible in bed sport.)

And she is the mistress of the Silver Prince.

But for all noble Rhaegar’s sweet nothings is using her in his plans.

Lyanna also thinks,  _I'm using him, too. Consequences be damned._

* * *

 

The next thing Lyanna knows the entire Westeros finds her illicit affair with the married Rhaegar Targaryen.

In love or not, as Lord of House Baratheon, Robert would not suffer with a scandal like his faithless betrothed having an affair thrown right back at his face, breaking the engagement is the only thing he could do to save his honor.

…The life her father and Robert wants for her is easily taken away.

Lyanna could only laugh in hysterics at this as she is eyed by incredulous looks by everyone around her.

* * *

 

Princes also don't marry soiled ladies.

Strangely enough, Lyanna finds that she doesn't mind.

(Rhaegar’s father, King Aerys did not seem to mind the scandal. He seems thoughtfully amused throughout the scandal.

Lyanna did not know if she should feel relieve or not.)

For Lyanna also comprehends the life she would have like Princess Elia and the people at court surrounding her and bidding their time to sink their claws on any weaknesses.

To be trapped _for life_  in that manner makes Lyanna ill at ease.

No. Just no.

But…

There is no going back after dragging the Stark name and honor to the mud.

* * *

 

After what happened between her and Rhaegar, Winterfell is lost to Lyanna.

House Bolton is always opened, but her _dear cousin_ Roose would not offer openly as it would hurt his standing.

Lyanna understands and resents the Northern Houses at the same time.

She has no home; her kinsmen have made it more than clear to her that they want her gone.

 _So be it_. A dark inner voice croons invitingly, something Lyanna has tightly reined in her wild days for entertaining the voice is simply madness. _It is an opening that must be exploited. It’s time to cut your losses._

Tempted, Lyanna finds herself enlightened by that thought.

She will give them exactly what they want.

It’s not like she’s not all the more damned for it.

* * *

 

The entire court is watching them both avidly like watching a pig for a slaughter.

Her eyes steadfastly staring back at the king, Lyanna walks steps forward to the dais.

"So the runaway mad-bitch-in-heat returns with her tail between her legs." Aerys voices, tone amused, sending titter to the entire court.

“Exile me from Westeros since I am worth nothing and I will do anything you bid me, Your Grace,” Lyanna says the truth with outward indifference of a brutal hard truth.

King Aerys gives her a curious look. "What makes you think that I will grant your request, mad-bitch-in-heat?”

Lyanna tilts her chin. “No one would dare to speak against you, Your Grace.”  _No one would with good sense._

There is a flicker of interest in the king’s eyes. Pale violet eyes pierces right through Lyanna’s very soul, weighing the truth from her words like the paranoid man he has become. She barely resists the urge to glance away. Never did he pays even the slightest hint of interest before with her even at the raucous her betrothal and hints of rebellion with his lords. A part of Lyanna warily wonders why that has change.

At Aerys’ side, Queen Rhaella sends Lyanna a telling look that conveys perfectly to a perceptive Lyanna that, _You brought this to yourself, foolish girl, but I’m glad it’s you and no one else I care about._

Lyanna wonders how people describe the Queen as kind for Rhaella would push anyone disposable to have the Mad King's attention away from her.

“I want a taste.”

The whole room stills.

Lyanna is mystified. “Pardon?”

Aerys clarifies, “I want to personally see for myself how you drive my sensible heir hopelessly out of his wits, She-Wolf Temptress.”

Lyanna ignores the poisonous barbs of being pointedly asked to become a mistress for she hears the king's decree at the same time. She has what she needs and tossed out carelessly, “If you can keep up being in your advancing age, Your Grace.”

There is a lull as more disbelieving eyes pierce Lyanna’s back and front before King Aerys booms a laugh that makes Queen Rhaella to turn even paler.

That memorable momentum is when anyone with sense could foresee that a match between the Mad King and She-Wolf Temptress is made in hell.

* * *

 

Moons later witnesses Benjen's loyalty to his favored sibling blooms.

Still...

With the court’s eyes on them and the illusion of privacy they have is the distance between the court by a few number of yards, the youngest of the Stark men, Benjen stares at Lyanna as if she has grown three heads.

…Surprisingly, there is no condemnation coming from Benjen. Just exasperated acceptance and enduring tolerance.

Benjen would understand. He and Lyanna both grew up under the shadows casted by their elder siblings and legendary ancestor, and coming from a direct main line of the First Men and Winter Kings both have a lot of expectations heap upon them and to live to.

And with the scandal and Lyanna dishonoring and dragging the Stark name into the mud again, needlessly she is found absolutely lacking.

“Really, Lyanna?” Still, Benjen complains halfheartedly playing his role to keep up the appearance.

“Not everyone can put their duty above their personal feelings.”

“Playing dangerously with fire like a hellion firebrand,” Benjen mutters with an offended look on his grim expression. He is silently asking, _Are you alright?_

_Firm, large hands pushed her legs apart, stretching them to the limits. Feeling vulnerably exposed, a hot flush of shame washed over her and senses the fixed leering violet eyes violating her more in just a look. Her pent-up climax held up tightly by being, arched closer as the Aerys' hard breeding rod thrusts in and out in a torturous, slow pace._

_"P-Please, d-don't..."_

Lyanna’s expression is carefully shuttered to dispel memories away. "We compromised." After three fucking days. Aerys lived up to his monstrous stamina after all even with his advancing age. Then again, she brought this to herself. "We parted ways after that."

"You were raped?" Benjen’s voice comes out quietly and flatter and colder between them.

It is an open secret of how Aerys conducts on bedsport.

“A dragon didn’t forcibly take something I readily offered in the golden platter, brother.”

Lyanna corrects watching how her words nailed Benjen’s sensibilities harder showing a flint of disgust by her actions and reined indignation for her from those grey eyes they both shared.

"This is the consequences of courting danger in line with that Mad King. And I should be relieved that instead of outrightly burning you to death in the execution stand he is so fond of, he chose to break you, sister? Like he did with his Queen?" Benjen demands sarcastically, appearing ready to commit murder in broad daylight for Lyanna's sake.

"That King would never break me." The interjection is firm solid conviction. “He found the wildest match most compatible with him after all.”

Lyanna’s shameless admission sooths the rallying murderous urged from Benjen. Then, Benjen suddenly looks through her shoulder and gives her a _look._

Ah. The Bloody Wolf, Brandon and the Quiet Wolf, Eddard is coming their way to them.

Lyanna wonders if her other two eldest brothers would be generous to spare her some dignity while being inside being the court. _Probably not,_ she muses and observes the pairs’ grey eyes are stormy subglacial, achieving that near flawless calm on the surface.

Oh. They are going to make a spectacle. _Of her._

Lyanna shoots a stare at the dais. King Aerys is simply vibrating from his seat, Queen Rhaella and Princess Elia looks unconcerned, only Rhaegar seems to be worried judging the crease on his brows, and everyone else that did not matter is eager for first blood to be drawn.

Well then, she must deliver to disappoint them for their obvious fun in her expense only serves the more vicious side of Lyanna to practically leap up as urge by primal instinct.

And gives one opening for Brandon’s open palm blow which makes her head spin for several heartbeat.

Ringing silence echoes around the court for it is practically a rule for nobles to preserve their arguments inside closed doors.

Lyanna takes a moment, tasting the blood in her mouth and then straightens fluidly to stare them down.

“You get this one,” Lyanna says to Brandon and Eddard. “As I am grateful.”

Her words echo through the court confounding those who are watching especially her two eldest brothers whose jaws are slacked from disbelief.

“I have to thank you. You forced me to see the truth of men’s way, you forced me to accept that I have to grow up and live to people’s expectation and care nothing for myself. A maidenhead to be bartered,” Lyanna scoffs and leans closer as if sharing a secret. “Which force me to act on one desperate move, I gave myself to a dragon, one who would not let anyone else to take what is his." She straightens up.

“Mistress or not, I am compensating for a long unanswered duty—the Pact of Ice and Fire,” Lyanna declares righteously as it is right with brutal efficiency that strikes home with the Stark’s honor. “And if this is the honor the Starks ask of me, I would take it as I must do for _The North Remembers,_ my dear brothers.”

Reeling back as if blown away by her words, Brandon and Eddard could not say anything against that.

Lyanna zeroes in on the weakness like a direwolf to blood and smiles coldly at them in disgust on how her disgraced is made acceptable by vows made between men.

And with a fluid curtsy, Lynna walks away from the court.

In a heartbeat, Benjen follows after her.

* * *

Inside the privacy of Lyanna’s private chamber, Benjen’s face is glowing with a smile proud as he is to Lyanna’s sheer gall even if Lyanna is very careful not to show him visibly how unhinge she is with the confrontation which she won.

Benjen would never think Lyanna of any less. Still…

"Lya," Benjen begins a steely tone underlying his next words, "never ever think that tears are a sign of weakness."

A second ticks by, then two.

Any emotion Lyanna has kept under wraps finally spills to its breaking point. She weeps silently, shaking with hate-filled rage. For more than anything else in the world, Lyanna wants to forget the shitstorm in the form of their loving family and the dragon royals have dished her in for moons on end.

_The Pact of Ice and Fire_

_The Song of Ice and Fire_

A union and a fruit so long desired, the noble Rhaegar sung sweet songs to seduce Lyanna, and Lyanna’s passionate fire appreciated and coveted by the Mad King.

A vow of men solved and utilized by his sister’s desperate measures.

_"We compromised."_

Benjen’s calm countenance did not reveal even a crack to where his dark thoughts are headed while his silent support holds on until Lyanna cries herself to sleep with her last words for the night imprints into his heart. “If this is their love, I would rather have their abuse…”

Benjen’s mind flashbacks to the rumored eggs Vermax has laid under Winterfell’s crypts.

Not knowing his contribution would set the wheels to turn onto another path.

* * *

With Lyanna fulfilling the Pact of Ice, House Targaryen and House Stark is set on an impasse cold as ice itself.

Prince Rhaegar is keeping his distance but is watching her and with him are the Kingsguards who did not know what to make of Lyanna.

Queen Rhaella is enjoying her time away from Aerys’ attention, and is practically shoving Lyanna to satisfy and entertain Aerys at bedsport.

Frail and sickly Princess Elia is just there like a dark shadow that looms.

And speaking of Prince Viserys, he becomes Lyanna’s daily companion for not even the Queen could stop his curious youngest prince from seeking the King’s Mistress.

Only Benjen and Old Nan from House Stark have been given the royal permission to visit Lyanna. From House Bolton, Roose and his heir Domeric pays Lyanna a visit. He also gives her the charge of his naturalborn son Ramsay Snow.

* * *

 

Lyanna accepts her new and only ward, Ramsay Snow with a smile.

Her dearest cousin, Roose smiles back at her.

Their smiles with each other compels Benjen to make a vow as Lyanna’s shield and sword.

“Do try to keep up with your sister, Benjen,” Roose advises sagely.

Benjen barely resisted the urge to do the Bolton lord in.

* * *

Lyanna graces the royal court with her presence for three years.

Her wish of an exile is followed through by Aerys after her womb got bigger.

…Aerys is ecstatic beyond words.

Lyanna takes her ward, Ramsay and her brother Benjen with her at Braavos.

And Aerys pays her a visit whenever he has enough time.

However, Lyanna is more concerned of the otherworldly feeling coming from within her womb. And with this otherworldliness, she is aware of a certain unexplainable presence. It is strong primal, aggressive and territorial. A thing that is watching her and takes care of the seed inside her womb. (Lyanna is made aware of the threat against her. Threats that are fatally neutralize by unfortunate circumstances).

Lyanna thinks the seed it seems carries her burden, a curse—gifted as others would say. This gift comes from her blood of winter Kings and dragonlords makes her and the seed too valuable. For this very reason, she has to get rid of this growing seed inside her womb. It was the most decent thing to do. Sparing an innocent soul from the inherited curse and all the troubles the world itself has yet to offer.

And yet…

She chooses not to. She has grown weary from the soul-crushing loneliness she has all been raised to. Besides, this seed is hers. Only hers. The one thing she could claim solely hers by blood.

So the seed grows and grows with her painstaking love and devotion.

* * *

Lyanna’s eyes are glued at her baby's fluffy curls matted with unsavoury fluids. She is so adorable with pink chinks standing out from the luminescent, alabaster skin and puckered little rosebud lips. Then the little one’s eyes fluttered open to reveal murky blue eyes of the newborn babe.

The moment is broken by an explosion of a healthy wail coming from the newborn.

Then another agonizing pain runs through her.

“The other one coming, my lady!” Was the another warning she has before Lyanna lets her pain pushes another babe from her.

* * *

Lyanna’s twin babes signal the other houses to match their sons and daughters.

Needless to say, more eyes from Westeros warily watch her babes.

And several noble houses have sent their children to her to watch over Lyanna’s babes.

From House Lannister is Ser Jaime but that is more on Aerys command than Tywin.

From House Velaryon is Aurane Waters.

Lyanna accepts the addition to her household, and is tickled by how big a threat the houses of Westeros perceives her to be.

It is also generous for Aerys to send guest who in wrong turn could be viable hostages for her to utilize.

* * *

It has been a year since her twin babes came into her life.

Lyanna finds out that her twins are serene babes, a sharp contrast to her if Benjen is to be believed.  Most of the time, the babes are just contented to stare at her from their crib. It is creepy at first, but she has gotten use to it. Not to mention her twins love it when she cuddles them on her bed while listening to her voice in bedtime stories. They are comforted by listening to her voice, and would immediately stop crying when they heard her voice near them.

And so years passes by.

Like any proud mother, Lyanna is very please. Her little twins are young prodigies of astoundingly phenomenal. Both are soaking all theoretical knowledge like the driest sponge out of all sponges and applying them effectively.

It is a still little bit unsettling, their capabilities to grow more. But she stumped down the trace of worry from her heart .

All the better to protect them with.

* * *

Then one day during a role playdate, something changes.

Her daughter declares, “I want to be Daemon Blackfyre.”

Ser Jaime and young Aurane choke on their drinks.

Lyanna ignores the two knowing how the name is describe in less unpleasant terms and probes her daughter. “Why, Senya?”

“Cause a Blackfyre means a Targaryen who would not have to be a king. That means, I could be whoever I want.”

Lyanna smiles at her daughter’s logic. It sounds reasonable. But…”Daemon Blackfyre wants to be a king, Senya.”

“He fails to be the king in Westeros, mother,” Senya corrects her.

“She means Blackfyre could have look to another direction, mother,” Aemon adds quietly and pulls Senya to a giggling whisper.

Lyanna is left amused.

She should have known it would not be the last time they would discuss the fallen house cadet of the Targaryens.


	3. Sonata II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurane Waters is sure he had made the right choice. A few years later, the twins of the dishonorable She-Wolf Temptress shows him just how utterly wrong he is.
> 
> With little regard for most (because they stop caring after endless loop of rebirth, Visenya and Aemon show everyone that they are far more than the Prophesized Song of Ice and Fire. As the Mad King’s bastard children, they are going to milk this for all it’s worth.
> 
> Ramsay Snow and his inappropriate glee just simply eggs the twins on.
> 
> At the chaos bound to happen, Ser Jaime Lannister seems to be the metaphor fly in the wall.
> 
> (In which Lyanna (and Benjen) exasperatingly laments how her twins are just like her. Or even worse than her. Her infamous reputation always precedes her; she makes it worse by building a terrible name for herself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonata—usually the first movement of the piece serving as the exposition, a development, or recapitulation.
> 
> Divine Right. The doctrine that kings and queens have a God-given right to rule and that rebellion against them is a sin. This belief was common through the seventeenth century and was urged by such kings as Louis XIV of France. (See absolute monarchy.)

**[Eleven (11) YEARS AGO]**

With the condition of Lyanna being ‘exiled’ from Westeros, Benjen joins her. In time, soon are both found and recruited by the Company of Roses the descendants of those who did not kneel _under Aegon the Conqueror_ and founded the same company of Sellswords.

Understanding that both of them (and Ramsay Snow, her ward) are so far out from safety and protection and that the Free Cities is another grave unforgiving world even with Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Aurane Waters brought into their pack _forcibly_ by the whims of _dear King Aerys_ , Lyanna and Benjen accepted the recruitment.

And if their joining to a company of Sellswords is oddly parallel to what Daemon Blackfyre who founded the _Golden Company_ , the better for a mass coronary to Westerosi nobles as Benjen once darkly mused to her out loud after the deal is struck.

_“Here lie the monsters with facade of beauty and riches.”_

_“There was lots of viciousness in Westeros, too.”_

And Lyanna agreed with all the cunning practicality she is born to and raised as a Wild She-Wolf and studying the sorrow of leaving behind what he’s accustomed to Benjen’s face but that moment passed soon between them. It makes Lyanna wonder if Benjen blames her for it.

But Benjen would probably do it to spite the elder brothers whose shadows hovered over him.

 _Classic sibling rivalry,_ Lyanna thought. _And how much it could put a wedge between brothers of the same House._

Lyanna should be glad Benjen is closest to her as evidence points out how willing Benjen is to join her jaunts across Westeros.

Things would never be the same again.

Never.

* * *

Lyanna is admittedly a spoiled young lady under House Stark’s protection but she stifled all the same to adhere to the North’s expectation and keeping their be-damned honor _untainted_. She has deep well of understanding to be kept in a gilded cage no matter how pretty and sweetened with riches and titles it could be.

Slavery it is not called in Westeros, but it’s all the same semantic of duty to Lyanna.

So if there is one moral code of Northern origin Lyanna has kept while being ‘exiled’ in the Free Cities, it is the empathy she has with helpless woman and children being force _against_ their will.

For that, Lyanna has grown to detest slavery of _any_ sorts.

And being a handler and whatever her position needs to be in the _Company of Roses_ , has Lyanna living the experience of how cruel the world is to women and children as she is drawn down to a scene of quiet sobs.

It is most probably the heart of a mother that has Lyanna’s heart goes out to the mother who is trashing wildly in protest as her children are taken away by a grown ass man in some raid or other to Masters and Mistresses.

 _Young recruits for the Unsullied,_ Lyanna concludes her code of honor practically seething at the sight before her. _Or worst, trained for the pillow-houses._

And she realizes as well how normal it is as  _not one person_  on the streets had so much as glances at the sight.

Lyanna understands how others could _simply_ turn blind and indifferent for self-preservation or other reasons.

Lyanna’s mind-eyes also settle on what she would do _fiercely_ to keep her twins safe and sound. Because she is not that dim-witted of how far of her children could be weaponized as candidates that lusts for the Iron Throne.

The slaves’ chains clinking softly like a call of clarity have Lyanna _plotting deeply_.

And if Benjen is here he would no doubt sighed in exasperation and ready himself to whatever chaos Lyanna would engineer.

 

* * *

 

When Benjen has the faintest inkling at Lyanna’s current juncture judging how Lyanna’s suitor of Unsullied Master being dead a three moons turn later, he simply sighs with a put-upon expression and complains half-heartedly, "You can't be serious, dear sister."

Lyanna just shrugs. “As serious as Aegon the Conqueror’s sisterwives in his conquest to Westeros did, dear brother.”

Benjen stares and stares. “So our father’s ambition did not skip out on you, Lya.”

Oh, that burns as Lyanna’s eyes flint a burning fire in them.

“I see its value in regards to my twins’ protection and safety.”

“So in order to be a good mother, you are paving a bloody path as a revolutionary leader of some sorts with the Unsullied Army as your very dead suitor’s courting gift in this part of continent.”

Lyanna again shrugs uncaring of the magnitude of her end game.

Benjen is understandably incredulous at Lyanna’s unnerving recklessness. “I was assuming you have it in you to crown _yourself_ and _volunteer_ for the massive amount of work and sweat and blood.”

 _Usually you avoid that thing at all cost_ , Benjen did not add out loud.

“Blame it to sheer dumb luck nipping to my heels since I become the mother of twins,” Lyanna points out wryly in a matter of fact tone of voice.

Benjen winces and feels a shudder of something _otherworldly_ with regards to the misfortune that befalls on any who tries any attempts to harm his nephew and niece. He did not wonder the hows and whys, feeling beyond grateful for the gods that they are watching out for his family.

There is possibility of the Divine Right hogwash if Benjen is led to believe as evidence point put to him. But they are not going to talk about it unless it would make the otherworldly _truly real._

There is always a relief in leaving some things untold and unsaid.

And yes, that makes Benjen willing to self-delude himself for his peace of mind.

“So your heart went out for the poor helpless people who suffered through a slave’s life?” Benjen could not help but ask in sarcasm even as he sees the grim expression on his sister’s face.

"I have the power, I could do something good with it in my arsenal.”

_‘I couldn't do it in Westeros, but here I can.’_

The last goes unsaid from Lyanna as it hangs on the air between them.

 _Ah, Lya is so dead serious about it. Why wouldn’t she be?_ Benjen perceives laying the blame out for the past of not having enough control as a girl in Westeros—a past which gives a push for Lyanna’s desperate measures.

"As I was saying, if you want to do it like the Conquerors did, you have to do it better,” Benjen says after thinking of how men could be led around by their vanity.

Lyanna’s face is _all_ vicious lupine at that. “I’m listening.”

After Benjen’s recommendation is air out, Lyanna looks turn to dunk his head with hot soup and peppering his face with kisses.

Fortunately, Benjen is granted a reprieve of his sister’s moods when his commanding officer calls his name for a mission and he is quick in haste to do it himself.

Leaving Lyanna on her own to plot and plot.

* * *

After that conversation, Benjen leaves Lyanna to enact the plans while he reflects in private.

Men always desire the novelty of taming wild horses, or in Lyanna’s case the She-Wolf Temptress that has made the Mad King _strangely_ faithful to Lyanna if the rumors of remaining celibate and rejecting any bedsport until he personally make his visits to Lyanna in Braavos is to be accepted as factual.

Men always love the challenge of _having_ something _they could not_.

As Rhaegar proves as he pines for the one who got away according to the minstrels singing from Westeros.

 _Rumors,_ Benjen muses, _as twisted it could be true if the straining relation between Dorne and House Targaryen is assuming to be worse._

A huge matter that could launch a war to his sister’s pretty head if she is _left unattended and unprotected._

 _Ah well there is contingency plans just in case,_ Benjen comforts himself with this thought.

* * *

_Wild Bitch, She-Wolf Temptress, and Mad-Bitch-In-Heat._

Those are the monikers Lyanna has build her honorless reputation in Westeros.

Years later, the _Scarlett Widow_ is another Lyanna has gained in the Free Cities, a moniker that has described Lyanna as dangerously lethal.

What Benjen has _resignedly_ accepted has his brothers and father and the rest of Westeros hopping mad and chomping at the bit as tongues wagged and mouth’s downturn in disapproval.

Only Aerys is as darkly smug as anyone who survives Lyanna’s wicked wiles could be.

Many wonder why the Mad King is _acceptingly_ tolerant of his mistress’ endeavours.

While Lyanna begs to differ as Aerys next visit has her limping and covered with bruises due to Aerys’ enthusiasm.

* * *

 

_That She-Wolf is despicable and a whoremonger with tits, Jaime—_

One Ser Jaime Lannister throws his sister’s letters to the bin and wonders if Cersei is simply bitterly envious of Lyanna’s wild-hearted independence.

Lyanna, who Jaime is very belatedly grateful for because when the Mad King decreed that he would be part of her guard, the King has also _inadvertently spared_ Jaime the _horror_ of witnessing another guilty men and women being burned in the King’s Landing pits.

 _What an honorable Kingsguard hogwash my knightly position was compared to what I have now,_ Jaime mutters to himself.

Jaime sorely misses his blood family but joining Lyanna is a freedom he would not exchange for all Lannister’s gold.

But it did not get better at first, for Jaime who finds himself in another new field rebels petulantly, a rebellion Lyanna matches wit for wit bluntly as an expert of rebelling spars would.

_Feeling the need to enlighten the fallen lady, Jaime greeted her first with a verbal dagger upfront. “Both the Crowned Prince and the King dishonored you.”_

_“And I utilize their lusts for me, consequences be damned.” Lyanna returned not looking sorry for herself or for anyone at all._

_Jaime scoffed. “Which put yourself in exile and taking your family down while at it.”_

_“I’m free from Westeros’ code of honor and honeyed lies.”_

_“Please. This is another gilded cage if any.”_

_“But in exile, I can cut my losses and be whomever I want.”_

_“So it’s for the want of being more? How hell is paved with such selfish intention, my lady.”_

_Even if the last words are his that moment, Jaime left the battle like a hypocrite coward he is while Lyanna’s words got under his skin, as if summoning his feelings as a boy who gave up his dreams and purpose in life for the man he had become that quietly raged for a longing he could not have._

The domineering Tywin’s expectations are leagues away.

Cersei, his muse hold has grown slacking.

As moon turns passes by, being away from his family and Westeros serves Jaime to remain afloat and wander who he is now.

* * *

Jaime Lannister is not the only one that faces his conundrum.

There is Ser Aurane Waters appointed by the King himself to be the twins’ personal guard.

A duty from House Velaryon, Aurane obeys to watch out if the twins are a threat like the Blackfyre bastards once were to the stability of Westeros.

As it is, Aurane pauses in mid-step. He could hear the twins’ laughter and silently walks to the room only to be greeted by the sight of them while nodding to a faintly confuse Jaime who nods back distractedlyat him.

The twins just turn five namedays.

Sitting on the _Mad King’s_ lap.

The twins are sitting on the Mad King’s _lap._

The twins’ unmistakeable happiness with their father and children bonding makes something in Aurane to be stunned in surprise. At the corner, on her seat Lyanna is smiling at the trio softly.

_The King’s Mistress._

Evidently, it’s not a passing fancy for the Mad King.

One happy family reunion.

And they look so familial perfect.

 _High functional madness has its methods,_ the raven bearing the Spider’s smugness says to Aurane several moon turns ago after the King’s last visit to Lyanna.

Aurane takes a shuddering breath. Shock as he is _how dutiful_ the King could be to choose Westeros in exchange for the perfect family the King has all bundled up to be safe in distance at least from the enemies.

Later that night, Aurane burns the letter that has his report to his brother, Monford Velaryon and he makes a choice to watch why Lyanna and her brood has the King well tempered in his governance in Westeros when the King returns.

* * *

Then Benjen Stark comes back from one of his mission bearing a gift fit for dragons.

The sight of them has Lannister and Waters takes their breath away judging how pale they look together.

Ignoring the two, Benjen remains very smug. “Evidently, there is truth about Vermax laying her clutch under the crypts. Fit for a conqueror’s descendant no matter the bastardry, isn’t it?

“Of all the things, Benjen,” Lyanna could not help but grouse in playful mood.

Then Benjen’s expression turns hangdog. “Having one is not a problem. It’s hatching one that will be a complication.”

“Yes, because having a live one grown and trained well will brought a swift and decisive end to raze the interlopers that refuse to heel.”

“I can imagine.”

Their contemplative silence is broken by a sleepy Ramsay who has Visenya piggyback-riding on him and Aemon who blinks and points with all blunt childlike curiosity.

“Are those eggs?”

“A gift for our sixth nameday, brother,” Visenya adds sagely not looking at all surprise.

As if summoned, two of the eggs crack open amidst startled cries and gales of hysterical laughter.

* * *

It takes a long while for the adults to recover with goblets of wine as plans are made and revised with contingency plans.

The Ramsay and the twins sleep on a puppy pile with two dragons beside them, and they are being watch over by a staring Aurane Waters who has to re-evaluate his choices seeing that he is being weighed and judged by cold draconic three pairs of eyes.

 _The dragon must have three-heads_ , Aurane remembers, _and so King Aerys bastard children have the personified sigil of House Targaryen._

Or at least young Visenya is chosen by the three-headed dragon.

 _Choose_. For there is no other word for it because as soon as the snowy white scaled three-headed dragon recovers she or he immediately clambers up to Visenya who greets the dragon like a long lost friend or something…That is what Aurane makes out with Visenya, the mysterious of the twins.

Aurane also remembers that hatched eggs that slept on but _actively_ woke up to seek out their bonded’s voice.

None of which fits the description in the tomes of how Targaryens have their dragons bonded with them with blood and fire. At worse, Summerhall is burnt down to flames and has taken depleted House Targaryen members.

 _I can't believe this is happening,_ Aurane thinks in baffled astonishment.  _The dragons have been gone for so long…..and now they've returned to make Lyanna’s ambitions into a reality._

Wild Bitch, She-Wolf Temptress, and Mad-Bitch-In-Heat.

Those are the monikers Lyanna has build her reputation in Westeros.

Years later, the _Scarlett Widow_ is another Lyanna has deviously added.

“And soon, _‘Mother of Dragons’_ will be added to that list,” Ser Jaime muses out loud making Aurane to be completely aware of his thoughts being spoken out loud with a single audience.

Both Aurane and Jaime share a commiserating looks of ‘ _what the hell did we just entangled ourselves onto?’_

 _Should we tell someone?_ Is a problem that lies beneath their self-contained selves.

* * *

After singing a lullaby to her ward, Ramsay who has a fit that night, Lyanna all but throws herself from the bed when her finely hone instincts roars her to wake up. A prickling awareness she spends cultivating telling her one, important thing.

 _There is someone_ Other _in her twins’ room._

A feeling she associated with the unexplainable looming presence that is primal, aggressive and territorial that _always_ watches her and her twins.

Next she thinks is, _where are their guards?_

What she finds put the _literal_ fear of gods into her bravado in one fell swoop.

“W-What are you?” Lyanna asks bluntly even as her heart seems to be stuck into her throat from the _Other Fiery Thing_ —what else she could possibly describe with the thing at least it is _not_ the North’s Other—cradling her children so lovingly like she would do.

The _Other_ _Fiery Thing_ did not deem Lyanna important enough to give her an instant answer as the _Other_ practically glows while _It_ gazes sat her twins with somewhat like reverence.

…Though, a part of her did point out that something with her twins are _otherworldy_ … the idea of gods existing is less absurd than Lyanna has sometimes considered before as she stares on wide-eyed.

"You have done well," the _Other_ _Fiery Thing_ finally speaks after a long moment of silence and Lyanna winces at the pressurized sound that could burst her ears bloody. “Lyanna—the She-Wolf, the human vessel for the _Song of Ice and Fire_.”

Reining her frayed temper and being terrified out of her mind from the sound falling between grateful and mocking and _terribly knowing_ , Lyanna faces the _Other_ with all her reckless bravado to say:

"I don’t trust the fickle whims of Gods like you!”

Even shrouded in shadows, Lyanna could perceive the _Other_ smiling with incandescent teeth at her.

“The twins know the dangers, She-Wolf, an advantage when the time comes.”

Lyanna stills at the horrible conclusion that comes up to her.  “How did they know about that damned prophecy?”

“It’s in their blood as descendants of the Greenseers and Dragondreams do.”

Fear for her children has Lyanna to spit out the words, “And when did _that_ happen?”

“When they turned six.”

Lyanna rears back _. “Six?!”_

If shadows could raise their eyebrows, the _Other_ would mockingly at her. “Coddling them would never go so well after destiny springs it on them mercilessly unprepared to a turning point beyond anything that this world has ever seen.”

And as if the _Other_ is considering her maternal concerns It adds, “If it brings you comfort, She-Wolf, know that they are completely _mine_.”

Deflated by the _fierce_ possessiveness of that blessing, Lyanna while not appreciating being completely oblivious to another’s plot either so she could accept that rationalization even if she did not like it.

But still…

 _Divine Right_ , it burns something cruel to Lyanna how fated some plots seem to be.

And Lyanna is very much terrified having the actual glimpse of _some_ greater power working in her children’s life.

* * *

When their dragons hatched, it’s like a great and terrible knowledge has been all but dumped into their minds.

When both Aemon and Visenya finds their selves being reborn again, all they think is—ah, nothing else is new. For this seemingly endless loop of rebirth is their new normal.

Jumping at different points of time as different people each rebirth, but always never alone _(always and forever they promised to one another_ )—it changes their principles. And quite possibly gives them a perverse sense of humor and dark amusement in dealing with people.

Again they are in the game of thrones once more, and past lives developed a chronic aversion to be the Dragon Royalty of the Seven Kingdoms.

So this time they’ll make sure they don’t get that _honorable_ ‘duty’ again.

But how could they do avoid that thrice-damned fate?

The answer comes into them at once and with it a _terrible resolve_.

So they leave at the first crack of dawn, telling their beloved mother—an alive Lyanna—they will be away for a while and that they love her.

And then both resolutely make sure no matter what it takes that their sire, Aerys Targaryen’s heirs: Rhaegar and his children with Princess Elia Martell will make it through the bloody games alive.

* * *

Valyria follows them to life.

Valyria follows them to death.

Valyria lays barren and a wasteland beyond the Smoking Sea.

Waiting for her Champion with all the graceful patience of a primeval sentience that walks once in the human plane as _She_ appeared as _She_ is in all their terrible truest elemental form.

Valyria then feels two souls that are ‘Marked’ by her.

So Valyria makes the choice and pulls, remembering her Phoenix form reborn from the ashes of destruction after destruction in the likeness of Visenya and Aemon relating to Valyria in ways no one else was, and _found the twins worthy. Once again. Once more._

Valyria has grown fond of her beloved twins.

Valyria does _not_ see the need why that has to change even with the plans _her_ twins are plotting.

Because the twins will always keep their promises.

No matter what.

For they are more driven now than ever.

 **My darling children,** whispers Valyria beyond joyous into the breath of sea-wind. **Come back to me.**

* * *

Relieved and comforted, Visenya and Aemon answers as one, “ _Of course,_ Mother Valyria.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did the twins have to leave? (Part of the plot and all that is justifiable.) Well, it is unfeeling but Visenya and Aemon are more comfortable with the One who has been there beside them forever than a complete stranger who they did not give a chance to know more. Yet. 
> 
> Then again, the fruit does not fell off miles from its tree or something like that.
> 
> How would Lyanna deal with two headstrong children just like her?  
> And theTargaryens?  
> And the mass Westerosi?  
> *cackles like a hyena*


	4. Rhapsody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still kickin! Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! My thanks for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks, dear readers! And now may I present my gift to end the year 2018 with a bang featuring snapshots, (through the eyes and PoV of poor Ser Jaime Lannister) of chaotic insanity around our favorite twins in this AU.

When Lyanna’s twins disappeared without as much as by your leave, Jaime Lannister and Aurane Waters are very much scared and terrified out of their _wits (because if her royal father, Aerys hears about this)_ while in sharp contrast the blood relatives Lyanna, Benjen, and Ramsey are impassively calm as ice.

(“Just like their mother,” Benjen blames flatly with an eye roll to Lyanna, who just sighs and murmurs tiredly,

“This plot twist did not catch me in surprise.” Then she stares at nothing. “At all.”

While Ramsay did not look at all despondent but merely focuses his curious attention to one tome about human anatomy.

Jaime and Aurane trade a look that screams, _‘What the fuck is this Northern pragmaticism all about!_ ’)

Moons later, after experiencing several wild rounds of being around the twins, both Jaime and Aurane would come to understand how to live with The Twins with their sanity intact.

The difference between them is this: one develop fondness to the twins, the other learns hard to be disentisized to the twins' perverse humor for chaos.

* * *

 

A moon turned later after the disappearance of the twin, Jaime Lannister has personally proves how _Scarlett Widow_ is all another facet of Lyanna which serves her well.

Just like its owner, _Scarlett Widow_ won't take no for an answer.

And Jaime is its unlucky prey.

Instincts telling him to run away, Jaime’s brows furrow.What is it this time?

"Ser Jaime," Lyanna greets with unusual ladylike politeness.

Jaime stares. "Such good manners sounded so ladylike is so unlike you," he could not help but comment in good humor.

Lyanna flicks her eyes demurely at him.

"I have a request." 

Clearly, it is not a request but a command. 

Jaime also has the vaguest idea is how Lyanna looks to be when entrapping the Silver Prince out of his wise wits.

"I want you to keep an eye on them."

"Keep an eye on them," Jaime repeats, thinking it’s the Company of Roses’ cloak and dagger affairs.

"Who's that?" he clarifies and wonders why Lyanna is asking now and not before.

"My beloved twins, of course," Lyanna clarifies softly.

"Them?!" Jaime sits up straight. That coming from one of the laid-back mother is very terrifying enough.

"It is time to pick up your slack as it is your responsibility since Aerys has specifically designates you as the twins’ Sword and Shield.”

Even if it is stated in a saccharine cheery tone, it is a serious order from Aerys’ most favoured mistress.

That did not change the fact Jaime's been demoted to a nanny  _without_  due honor.

"When and where?" Jaime asks abruptly wanting this appointment to end before all of his pride is ripped to shreds.

"Volantis."

And just like that the appointment ends.

* * *

 

When Jaime finds them, Visenya greets him with this:

"Valyria," Visenya responds. "We're going to Valyria."

Her answer took time to sink on Jaime. He does not say this: Valyria is a smoking ruin since the Doom.

Which.

Um.

Wisely, Jaime pauses and takes in Visenya's entirety. Her serenity overall unveils her eyes that are set ablaze in fully realized glory as they pierces right through his as if on a dare to accomplish the most impossible thing.

…And beside her, her twin brother Aemon is vibrating with dogged faith to her.

"Valyria will be great again."

It's a promise. No matter how unattainable it could be.

…Like Visenya will drag Valyria's ruins from mere dust it becomes if she has to.

T-This intensity is... truly frightening to behold.

It makes Jaime to have the inkling he just witness one of those moments of greatness that will lead birth to a legend.

And the Twins is just seven years of age.

 _That what makes this whole sight terribly great_ , he thinks.

* * *

 

These are the facts Jaime has garnered concerning the draconic companions of The Twins, and yes, the name deserved being capitalized throughout the years of his loyal knightly servitude.

_One: The dragon's no light-eater. Look what happened to his poor purse._

Even as the food bills has laid waste to both their payroll, Jaime is a bit amazed and more horrified at the amount of food the dragons are partaking. The amount is not normal especially with being just an eight moons old.  Still, where did the food go in? That's sure is one bottomless pit of a stomach.

Barely glancing at the herds being chow down alive or charred, one Aurane Waters, Jaime’s companion mused idly beside him with dragon-awe fascination. "I need to stop spoiling you, two, um, four rather."

Jaime couldn't still believe how the other man is taken down by a smile from Visenya, who commands them to watch her dragons as she goes to her business with Aemon.

Inwardly, Jaime wonders when the dragons are going to be fully satisfied.

Like the dragons want to get bigger through engorging their gluttony to reach the sized of the infamous Balerion. Or something.

* * *

 

 _Two:_   _The Twins are out-spoken, insolent to be précised even as they tend to double-speak their ability to See beyond what mere human could. (An annoyance of bullshitting when Jaime's the one being target. Then again, anyone is a victim when their mouth is concern)._

In one of their luncheon in one of Braavos’s gathering of the _Elite..._

"Your cloaks is borderline fanatical to the Stranger’s preference," Visenya comments out of the blue after her eyes noticeably fall into one shadowy corner.

Someone coughs hiding his laughter.

By Visenya’s side, Aemon glares at the courtesans. "We should be more concern of the pretty boys and girls whose perfumes are drugs, sister.”

At that, hisses of weapons being drawn has the air grows in heat.

Then Visenya moves and pokes at some noble.

"Is that a flower brooch? A symbol of membership?" She claps cheerily as if realizing something. "May I go ask you about it?"

A bright smiled dazzles the scowling face of the receiver whose scowl falters at the more intent look that stares through his soul.

There is a collective shiver which Jaime has sympathetically identified. He is just like that a few years ago. _(Anyone would be if they have the crimson eyes of the Second Coming of Bloodraven zeroing at them with such shuddering intensity.)_

Then abruptly, Visenya _mercifully_ shifts her eyes to another. She barely pays the man another glance and dismisses others who are watching the spectacle avidly.

A vein noticeable crinkles at some noble’s forehead.

"Not even worth your salt eh, bastard princess?”

Aemon stills as Visenya takes her time to think before tilting her head in confusion. "Their plots are nothing to someone else’s grand plans?"

The corner of the man's lips twitches in irritation.

Now, Jaime did not bother to his grin.

Plainly, what Visenya just said is a statement not a question.

Jaime has to give her that. Visenya is one of the few people who could without a care throw a compliment meant to be an insult wrecking one's self-esteem.

The nobleman is being reined in as he stands out like a sore thumb about to erupt.

Aemon gives a look meant as a gesture for Visenya to settle down. She did so albeit, grudgingly, with an adorable pout.

They all turn back to their meal. Most in hurry to finish the meal or else they'll have to burst from the comical scene in laughter inside the Magister’s room.

A very bad idea when there's a bloodhound that can and without second thoughts will  _surely_  hunt them down if they dare to laugh on his face.

 _However, they could do that in the privacy of their rooms_ , they console inwardly to themselves.

(In the privacy of their quarters, Aurane shares his thoughts about how endearing The Twins are to overlap peoples wits so helplessly and adds, like mother like children.

In retrospect a few moments that night, Jaime wakes up with a start and wonders what it is about The Twins that addles their common sense.

* * *

 _Three:_   _The Twins are the epitome of baffling magnetic charisma. (All people men and woman, young and old fell in one swoop in their presence)._

Obviously, the subject of the meeting: The Twins.

The male courier blanches. "But sir! For your information, more than half of your platoon would blush in your niece’s presence!

Darkly amused, Ramsay Snow adds, “Not counting those who would with your nephew!" The bastard then helpfully points at the eavesdroppers young and old alike including the Admiral and Vice-admirals in the base who attended the impromptu meeting set by Benjen.

"The twins are just so… so…" the courier stutters red face seemingly suffering from invisible choking caused by Benjen’s face of icy evil.

Unexpectedly, Benjen beams abruptly dispelling the aura of menace he's projecting before. "Adorable? Charming? Cute?" he asks like a rabid dog's enthusiasm.

All heads nod in affirmation at this.

"Yeah, that's my niece and nephew!"

Benjen roars that would make the Lannister sigil envy. "BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU LOT WON'T DO YOUR JOB RIGHT WHEN  THEY ARE DISTRACTING YOU!"

Jaime nods approvingly at this.

"Now where is that drawn image of hers in a courtesan’s dress?” Benjen has the audacity to blush making the rest of them to stare back at him incredulously.

"BENJEEEEEN!" Lyanna yells scandalized, veins twitching on her forehead.

"But she is really pretty to look at…"

Whoever says that is immediately impaired by Lyanna’s dagger.

Jaime has to control the tempting urge to roll his eyes from the scene, again.

And that was harmless.

The next parallel scene, Jaime has witness is simply dangerous.

The calmest commander of the Rose Company, Cregan growls. "I have nothing against you Magister…but if you have any weird ideas concerning the twins, I will personally make sure your life--a living hell!"

"I was more annoyed over the fact that my only son and heir allowed himself to be lead around by his nose by a--"

Cregan smiles viciously. "By a-what, Magister? By Aerys’ bastard? The Scarlett Widow’s daughter? A young woman who paved her bloody way as revolutionary to freedom?  A no-name who singlehandedly climb her way to much greatness as Her Second Name did and much more higher? A little girl who has a Blackfyre's impudence in all but name? Complete your sentence, dear magister, I am waiting with baited breath."

"By someone who is more of an obstacle than a friend to my son. A little girl and her twin with their own agenda as illegitimate heirs and deadly contenders to the Iron Throne. Both twins who have a dangerous thrall of having people with potential falling down on their haste to their whims."

“I’m touch for these warnings you have share seeing as I’m one of theirs,” Cregan says impassively and stalwart as he has been already hop into the twins’ charms and has ask to what’s next.

“A warning that would best serve for your son, magister. As Aegon cares for Visenya, far more than is appropriate but then they are dragons. Affections and loyalty with each other are certainly more than I myself could agree with.”

Jaime silently walks away, chest both heavy and strangely light at the same time.

* * *

 

_Four:  They are unpredictable as weather. (One might well as erase the word impossible in the dictionary when they are concerned)._

In a journey through Valyria…

A gigantic Eldritch of a sea serpent that could swallow their armada makes its presence known with a bubbling waves, garnering much attention from anyone who has been watching the sea where it comes from.

Jaime gives the  _look_ to his panicking subordinates, restraining them from running away.  _They were Dragon Sentinels after all. Not sissies._

Beside him, Visenya pauses from her meal. "Hello!" she calls out with a wave to the sea serpent, and she disappears into thin air _(Jaime has much learned practice with thrice be-damned old magick)_. Reappearing a second later at the railing where the sea serpent is.

Only, Visenya’s warm regard to the sea serpent prevents him to chase the thing out. Nevertheless, with the latest find— _Brightroar_ in his hands, Jaime approaches the two warily.

To everyone's surprise the sea serpent lowers its head.  Visenya smiles, lifting her right hand to pat the its head, effectively ignoring the widening eyes of many gaping at her and the sea serpent.

"Is there something you want?"

The beast growls softly in what sounds like an answer.

"Ah…you need food, my friend?"

His subordinate’s fears are understandable knowing what will happen next. 

_They are the meal._

Most of them entirely overlook the question of  _how did she communicates with the sea serpent._ Being under moons as The Twins’ escort has made them immune from such strange situation.

However, the sight is still mind-boggling.

They all stilled, watching as Visenya only smiles fondly giving the beast a large portion of her meal.

The new recruits however, are more concern of the Visenya’s mental health. She treats the sea serpent as though they are  _friends._

Anyhow, later in the privacy of their minds, the more important question is: is it really possible to be friends with a sea serpent?

To their general knowledge, sea serpents are nothing but monsters whose favorite hobby aside from mating is to destroy any ship that stands in their way. Though, everyone in sane mind will not even dare approach one.

Sea serpents to are sailor's most deadly perilous enemies through the seas that surrounds Valyria after all.

Especially now that Valyria has risen from its ashes.

With a last final pat to his head and an answering soft growl, the sea serpent dives back to the sea. Visenya waves at it until the beast could no longer be seen.

"The sea king just left without attacking us," someone whispers knees wobbling as he collapses on the deck.

Jaime eyes Visenya in question. She just shrugs at him sitting down again to her seat. Both turn back to their food with another additional order for their interrupted lunch.

Everyone stares at them with jaws _hanging._

Jaime inwardly snorts.  _Freshies. They would learn or die._

* * *

_Five **:**   Visenya's no killer if worst comes to worst; she would only maim her enemies. (A fact he figured out, though it's still debatable)._

"They are still breathing, are they?" Jaime asks, dubiously looking at the pile of broken bones and limbs at the square.

"They are," she pokes one to prove it.

It moans pitifully.

"See?"

"…"

But as her dragons comes for a sniff, Jaime spares some worry for the unfortunate slavers.

* * *

 

 _Six:_   _Visenya fights unconcerned to her wounds/injuries. He's the one who ended up bandaging and fixing her like a nursemaid._

"I'm not that easy to kill, Ser Jaime."

He ignores the how polite she is; feet still pacing in the sick bay in irritation. At the ninth turn, he glowers at her.

"You did not inform me that you're injured  _on purpose,_ " he hisses menacingly.

"Cuz, you're a mother hen,"  Visenya grumbles quietly, unsuccessfully.

" _What did you just say?"_

She blinks owlishly in innocence. "Nothing."

Jaime’s eyes narrow at the blatant lie.

One stomach growls in hunger.

"I'm hungry," she demands in a pleading tone.

He twitches, fighting a smile.

 _At least someone's back to her feet._  Jaime only sighs, knowing what the end will be.

Inside his pocket, his purse cringes.

* * *

 

 _Seven:_   _The Twins are one of the most dangerous and strongest people he had met, but  they are vulnerable and cute when asleep (must not squeal in sheer  cuteness overload)._

Jaime and the brats are on a boat coming back from the recent mission. In the seat, Jaime has two shapes cuddling him like some puppy pile  which has grown heavy.

Two of the fearsome people in the _Known World_  are both knocked out cold.

Unbidden warmth rises within Jaime.

They trusted him enough to let their guard down to watch over them. That would never cease to amazed him.

_How adorable._

Someone moans with envy in the background.

Jaime glares sharply at said individual, disregarding on purpose the jealous looks from the others, a superior smirk on his lips as he did so.

As if on cue, his arms tighten protectively at the puppy piles on his lap.

* * *

 

 _The Twins_ spells trouble in a bold uppercase letters.

The statement— _in every turn trouble follows that woman’s bastard children_  never sounded so true, and whether  Jaime likes it or not, the brats are his responsibility now.

Such luck, _Lyanna’s_ children  _sure_  are trouble magnets after all.

Poor Ser Jaime Lannister (and Aurane Waters), he's demoted as a nanny of irrepressible, obstinate, and unpredictable prophesied, _Song of Ice and Fire_.

Add the twins revolving talent for perverse humor and mischief winding up all sanity's atom to split apart, both practically turns the unfortunate’s world upside down.

As proof of circumstantial evidence of this trait, a poker-faced Aemon who just turned sixteen drops a cannon ball at the festive dinner that night saying,

“Mother suggest for us to pay a visit to dear father since he is too busy to make time for us.”

There is a collective spit take and choking between the listeners.

Not giving away what she thinks of Lyanna’s blatant order to stir some trouble, Visenya is the only one who comments idly, “We better keep Father to his toes then, brother.”

Incredulous and mind racing with the most likely end game, Jaime thinks, _And guess who's on the front row of this incoming clusterfuck?_

Ser Jaime sure has better luck taming a raging storm than The Twins.

But he would not have it either way.

So he cups his drink and adds with inappropriate cheer, “With fire and blood as the King Aerys loves to remind us.”

* * *

 

The next morning before the left for Westeros, a sober Jaime spares a moment to pray for every deity who is willing to listen to spare some pity for the poor victims of The Twins' bloody games.

* * *

 

In parallel sides at Summerhall, the famed Sword of Morning, Arthur Dayne feels edgy as he shudders which he blames from the cold of the night he has his watch a night before.

There is no news across the Narrow Sea.

He is perplexed by a conundrum, one which he did not expect at all. The Free Cities has all unanimously agreed _with each other_ to be in total information blackout.

Arthur takes note of such cautious undertaking and the barring exclusion the Free Cities all but blared against Westeros which he also begrudgingly approves, and with this talk of magic being back…

Arthur bits off his grimace. These developments from the Free Cities…singlehandedly cleans out the game. It is worrisome to say the least.

And Arthur is not the only one. His fellow brothers-at-arms are moving in restless subtlety around the banquet that is currently filled with nobles of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

Said attendance of _all_ the lords and ladies is much obliged as ordered by His Grace King Aerys who looks utterly bored at the celebration going on at late noon in the gardens of Summerhall.

Except for Varys who seems eager and has been constantly eyeing the skies as if to summon a bad weather to ruin the day.

Or the Spider is waiting for something.

Given the fact that the heralds have already announced everyone’s presence, that left one possibility the Spider could be waiting on.

The guest of honor.

Who is rather very late as the banquet has already started without him or her in sight.

Relaxing his tense shoulder, Arthur’s eyes dance around to survey the crowd. Then at the corner of his eyes, Arthur notices Varys’ still form even as the man studies the sky.

That makes Arthur curious and looks up as well.

High in the eastern sky, he sees something odd on the clouds. Something that winks in the color of red. That odd thing travels through the clouds and is approaching at a rapid pace that grows larger in glimmering sparkling red. The true shape of it soon becomes invisible, and Arthur realizes with a jolt that the shape is a d--

 “Rhaegar. I—”

Arthur stops as the air above the immense garden seems to vibrate, as if from a shockwave of pounding air.

_Thud._

Arthur grits in pain from the air pressure.

_Thud._

Then the pounding pressure is gone.

Arthur blinks in confusion – his view is tilted on its side.

But. . .no. . . he is lying on the ground. There is an overturned goblet lying directly in front of him, and a boot only inches from his head.

What the hell. . . Arthur shifts, trying to push himself upright with success.

And stares around the garden of Summerhall in shock. It looked as every single person in the yard has fallen over. Even Ser Barristan is on the ground, sitting up and shaking his head.

Then Rhaegar is there pulling Arthur through the throng of moaning, bewildered crowd. The Crown Prince’s attention is not on him but somewhere.

Arthur followed his friend’s line of sight.

A gust of wind blows fiercely onto them that _screeches._

Arthur feels his jaw dropped open and he freezes from adulterated fear and awe at the electrifying sight.

It is unreal.

Flaring its translucent wings, a gigantic three-headed snowy scaled dragon hangs on the air before them. The entire view has an otherworldliness of magnificence in it.

This is impossible.

All the dragons were dead.

However, the evidence to that thought shows the contrary as the three-headed dragon veers off and landed right in the roomy field by the garden’s entrance.

Cold draconic eyes of yellow green and blue sweeps an inspection of intelligence at them as the middle head coils and unveils the said dragon’s rider who dismounts in one sinuous grace of a dangerous warrior.

And that warrior removes her helmet, revealing a woman which silky straight long raven hair flying with the wind like her crimson cloak billowing dramatically behind her back.

It makes an impressive sight that has even Arthur who is not easily to admire a woman's beauty so blatantly to suck his breath seeing the ghost of the she-wolf Lyanna Stark even as Rhaegar stiffens beside him and the other Targaryens who could not reined in their gasps.

The first to regain his bearings is Robert Baratheon.

"LYANNA!" He calls over with such heartfelt relief like a lover would.

At that, Arthur blinks his eyes and opens them again.

The infamous Valyrian crimson eyes settles over the Storm Lord blond completely indifferent at the rest observing her approach as she glides like a female predator she is of her blood forward to the Royal Family’s direction and in the midst of the spell-bounded silence.

“Not quite, my lord,” Varys interjects as he all but leaps in glee and clears his throat to speak up again. “Your Graces, it is my utmost pleasure to introduce Visenya Snow. Eldest twin daughter of Lady Lyanna Stark.”

All around the garden of Summerhall, hushed conversations trickles from Varys’ announcement.

Arthur blinks slowly freeing him from Lyanna’s come again whose Valyrian blood has refined her Winter King's blood to the highest degree beauty that is admittedly breathtaking to behold.

Her eyes never wavering to anyone else, Visenya stops halfway to the Royal Family’s table and curtseyed particularly to King Aerys who has a truly frightening grin and fierce pride upon his face.

“Father."

Arthur hides the shiver from the effect of her sensuous voice.

“Finish flying around the Known World and conquering those lands your eyes fell in, daughter?” the King asks with an eyebrow raised.

“For now, Father.” Visenya turns grimly to the other Targaryens.

Arthur could not help but to wince as those unsettling crimson eyes lands an undeniable tension to settles into their direction.

The people stir in the background.

“Will you share the reason why Mother did send us in Court, Father, in the middle of the campaign?”

King Aerys _smiles_. “Is it wrong to see my precious favorite daughter?”

Visenya’s lips twitches to a fond smile that has enchanted the court and its people. But then, she looks in amusement and turns her head as another dark draconic shadow fall upon them.

And all are utterly loss for words, again.

A one-headed dragon sweeps in near them. Its rider making a show of leaping on the air to land right besides in a swerve to join the other three-headed snowy white scaled dragon.

Arthur is shaking his head as he feels a headache coming in from seeing another dragon while he studies the young man who is nearly identical to Prince Aegon with only their different skin complexion to distinguish them and whose right armcurls _possessively_ around this...Visenya Snow.

"If you had accepted Mother's invite five moons ago you would have met him, Father." Visenya says and greets the man beside her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Then she turns to Aerys _specifically_ and introduce him. “This is Aegon of House Blackfyre, my fiancé.”

“Greetings, cousins,” Aegon Blackfyre says and smirks in utter smug satisfaction.

Targaryens as a whole is not pleased with the sole exemption of Aerys whose eyes only gleam with spoken violent delights.

Ever attentive to his instincts, Arthur can tell this could start another bloody war as he remembers another war. A cold war that brewed before House Targaryen and House Stark because of Lyanna Stark.

And now another one is to ignite in the name of Lyanna's daughter, Visenya Snow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And that’s whom Visenya becomes a Blackfyre bride for to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to hear the reader’s comments.


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